


We Match

by Aleksandr



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Sherlock Amino, Sherlock Amino Prompting meme, THE ONE I MADE BOO YAH, first I love yous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleksandr/pseuds/Aleksandr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:<br/>Sherlock hurts his leg and has a limp that is permanent. John thinks he's faking at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Match

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marie of Sherlock Amino](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Marie+of+Sherlock+Amino).



"Sherlock, you'd probably ought to get that looked at.." Greg said awkwardly as he walked with the detective away from the scene of the crime. Sherlock's limp was heavy and noticeable, but there is no blood.

"It'll be fine." Sherlock waved the worry away, grumbling as he was pushed into an ambulance wherein he was forced into an ankle brace but thankfully not driven to any hospital. When John arrived he was huffing and puffing from the run and Sherlock sat quietly through the lecture on running after dangerous criminals. They began the trek home, Sherlock keeping his gait as even as possible so that John wouldn't fuss over the injury. John's limp is always strongest at times like now, when he is or has just been very much worried over Sherlock. Sherlock thinks on that for several blocks before letting himself walk naturally, limp heavier even than John's. "We match now." He commented with a soft smile, trying to convey that he cared about John too.

Sherlock didn't understand when John stopped, glared at him and then turned away, pulling out his mobile. He called a cab to their location and Sherlock smiled once more, thinking he  _must_ have imagined the glare and John doesn't want him to have to walk any further with the injury causing his rather obvious limp. And so he is surprised again when he is met with the cab door slamming in his face. He can't see John's expression through the cab window as it drives off, but he does hear John's faint command, "Just drive.  _Now_."

Sherlock limps home, alone and confused.

 

 

As it turns out, John thinks he is lying. Sherlock tries to tell him why that is preposterous. Why would he purposefully hurt John, as John says he is trying to? "Don't pretend you're not _fucking_ mocking me! My limp is _psychosomatic_ , Sherlock, I can't control it!"

John never believes him. John gets angrier and angrier and Sherlock does his best to hide his limp now but John just thinks he's being more subtle about mocking him and Sherlock is careful to muffle his sobs as he breaks down in the privacy of his room. 

The two start avoiding each other and their once budding romance is crushed flat. John writes in his blog that he plans to move out and Sherlock takes action immediately. He can only hope the results will arive in time to prove himself to John.

 

 

John had begun to pack. True to his word, he was moving out. He was not about to stay here with the stubborn asshole of a detective. He opened the top of the next box to start packing his jumpers, pausing as he saw something at the bottom of the box. The letter had been opened already, obvious by Sherlock's trademark care not to rip the envelope. The return address shows a clinic. Not the one John works at, either. He takes out the several sheets of paper, one of which is a scan of an x-ray. John feels sick to his stomach. Shattered ankle bone. The doctor's notes ran the same course as John's thoughts. Not helped by the abnormal walk he used to hide the limp. Should have gone to hospital immediately. The fracture had ruptured his achilles tendon, which also must hurt like hell with how he was walking as he skirted around John.

John sat on his bed, papers clenched tight in his hands. Why hadn't he said anything...? But, of course, he had. And John hadn't believed him. John felt the tears falling down his cheeks, wiping them away as he saw Sherlock in the doorway.

When he didn't say anything, John slowly set the papers aside, muttering, "You, um, you shouldn't be walking up stairs."

Sherlock limped over to sit next to him, leaning against him gently. "Are you going to stay?"

John nodded, guilt heavy in his chest. "Of course. How else am I ever going to be able to make it up to you? Sherlock... I'm so sorry." Sherlock moved accordingly as John put his arms around him and John could feel Sherlock's hands bunching in the fabric of his shirt, feel his deep breaths. "I'm a complete _idiot_. I should have been so worried about you. I promise to take care of you now. I.. I love you."

Slowly, Sherlock smiled against his jumper. "I know. We match; I love you too."


End file.
